Who Knew?
by FreeFallin12
Summary: Hey I'm Jane and I am in quite a bit of pain. It's a bummer you don't care.
1. Introduction

Who Knew?

I look at my self in the mirror, with my pale eyes and green eyeliner; but you see me differently at school in the hallways when you sneer at me and shove me against lockers. Stop trying to deny it. You might not be the one instuting the hurtful punches or jabs behind my back but you do nothing to stop it. You look at me and see nothing worth liking. You see the green eyeliner, not the girl trying to get you to notice and befriend her. You see the nose ring, but not the girl that bears it.

Yes, I am talking about you. Don't look at the person next to you and blame them. It was you. You are the one that held my hands behind my make and laughed and smiled while your best friend gave me a slugging right to the face.

You, the one who trips me in the hallway when I am carrying an enormous amount of books and papers and strutting away when they fly everywhere. You don't think I see you sneer. You don't think I am smart enough to understand the words loser, misfit, outcast. I understand. I understand that you could never like me. Give me a chance, get to know me. But you wont will you.

I see you. At first I think you are my friend. Then I hear your friends talking about how to get me, to hurt me. I want you to stand up to them. You don't. Instead you bash me and criticize me thinking that I don't know what your saying, I know.

Don't worry Spin, this isn't for you. You have always been there for me. You don't know my pain but you sense it. You don't back down from a fight and I respect that because I have given up a long time ago in my battles. You know me. You look past the labels society calls me like trash and damaged goods.

Darce this isn't for you either. You stood by me when I told your boyfriend what I should have kept secret and made a fool of myself. You never told my secret. That is good because there is more from where it was coming from.

This isn't even for you Lucas. Yes, I am disappointed that you choice your friends over me. They only cause pain and hurt and discomfort. I know the way the look at me. But I love you. You are my brother, and I will always love you.

Nope. I am sure that this is for you. Father make up your mind. First you want me, then you want to use me. First you say you love me then you love to break me. Make up your mind.

This is for you. Don't think I don't see you when I am sitting on a park bench all alone in the rain with no coat except my tears. Don't think I don't fell the cigerette butts your friends and you through at me when you drive by; once again laughing and jeering and mocking. It hurts. You think I am an animal, you think I don't have feelings.

I think an animal has more feelings than you do. You think you are going to change the world. I have something to tell you. Adolf Hitler thought he was changing the world, making it a better place. And if person, or millions of people get hurt or massacred along the way; then I guess you would say its for the greater good. Wouldn't you?

I know you. You are sitting at the same pew with me at church. I am weeping and sobbing for the things Jesus sacrificed and the things I had stolen from me like dignity, respect and innocence. You are avoiding me. You shun me because you don't think I am good enough. You don't offer me the least bit of comfort by telling me everything is going to be alright. There is something worse than being in pain, and that is nobody caring that you are in pain.

I want somebody to love me. I don't want someone to use me or break me or throw stuff at me or rape me or beat me or laugh at me or mock me or shove me against lockers. I want someone that will stand by me and not betray me, who will love me for me and not pity me because I am a loser. I yearn for someone to talk to me and comfort me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I want someone to fight for me and hurt for me and cry for me. I think my desires are crushed, because you would never do that, would you?


	2. Mother, Father

I don't own degrassi. Title from good dave matthew's song and quote from One Room, One Day; house M.D.

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Mother, Father

**House**: Are you going to base your whole life on who you're stuck in a room with?

**Eve**: I'm gonna base this moment on who I am stuck in a room with! It's what life is, it's a series of rooms, and who we get stuck in those rooms with,

adds up to what our lives are.

HOUSE

This isn't for you. You are probably thinking that I am a brutally cruel person to call you cruel and brutal. If you are thinking this, your assumption is

incorrect. I wasn't really talking you you, you see, I wrote all of that hypothetically. I am sure that you are a great wonderful teenager who stands up for

your friends.

But if you aren't, then I suggest you become compassionate towards your peers. Or you will always have a miserable life. Pretty ironic, by making people

miserable you end up miserable. I am pretty sure it works for happiness also.

You are probably wondering why I am writing this for you, when I am hypothetically not writing this for you. I am pretty confusing. I wrote this just in case

my Father found this letter or whatever and decided to read it. Why? You might ask, am I calling my Dad, Father. If you are wondering this you probably

either did not know my Father, did not read the last few paragraphs I wrote, or are incredibly dim-wited. Even though my father gave me half of his DNA,

he is not privileged to own that title. I am brutally honest. I guess I should have mentioned that before when you weren't so intwined in this interesting

story. Pain, it seems, has a way of drawing people together. You and me know have in unavoidable connection that will never go away. Hence why it is

unavoidable. You could be changed by reading this. Or not, that is if you are extremely dim-witted enough to the point at laughing at the last statement.

Rape is a terrible crime. I consider it to be the worst, more so then even murder. Why? You ask me. For murder you usually need a motive (unless you are

madman physopath), but with rape and molestation all you need is lust. It hurts, restless in your bed at night remembering the other night you spent in

your bed, unwillfully.

Father, I will never understand. I know I am worthless, damaged goods, to be reduced, reused and recycled set on repeat. But really I am of your same

blood, I am your daughter. Yet night after night you came, grasping me from my sleep only to give me never ending nightmares. I shouldn't pardon your

crime. You ask me the next day how I am doing. "How did you sleep." He would inquire, as if he deserved an answer. He pretended to care about me. He

would always ask me how I sleeped, and I would always sigh and look down, ashamed because of what he had done. Couldn't he tell, through looking at

my eyes behind the tears that I saw through his façade. He thought I didn't know what he had done. He thought I would forget. "Sir." I yearned to say "I

slept very fine minus the fact that you raped me and used me and took something away from me that I will always be looking for, never to find." He stole

from me the very notion of an innocent, care free life.

Yet, I love him. You don't understand. Unless you have gone through what I have, you don't understand. All of my moments with him add up, and I can't

leave out the good ones in turn for the bad ones. I'm weak. I'm confused. Father, I am frightned that I will forgive you and you'll come back and do the

same damage, or worse, you will do it to someone else. I would rather you hurt me a thousand times than hurt an innocent once. I don't know why I feel

that way, but I do.

Every night by for I sleep I find myself preparing for the battles that lay ahead that night. I find myself filled with guilt and shame and I search for the part

from me that my Father took. Yes, there is a hole in my body that is supposed to be filled with happy memories between father and daughter and is

instead crammed with fear. I reach for my blanket and pull it over my head while grasping my eyes shut trying not to replay the images from so long ago. I

pray to whoever and whomever that he is lying awake too, guilt driven and ashamed and one day he will come to me in confession saying **_"I have_**

**_sinned."_**

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**_Please review_**


	3. Lost girl

Darce and Spin,

I am sorry. I am a horrible friend and make an even worse girlfriend. I just don't know how to react to people that actually are good to me. I am so used to always having a snapping retort in my head when someone does or says something that hurts me and I shake it off like I am some kind of unfeeling cold monster. That's how I see myself. Don't look at me with pity. Pity is worse than insults and punches because I can never tell if the pitier is sincere, or just doesn't want to feel bad. I always seem to screw things up with the people that actually care about me, trying to push them away so they won't end up rejecting me. I admit it, Darce and Spin, I am a wimp. I don't know how to be a friend, I have never had one before so… I need another chance, please, I will do anything for you. You tell me you don't know me, I agree.

So here goes. Hell, I have nothing left to lose, except you guys. I am such a worthless peace of garbage that my dad hurt me, physically and sexually, just because he wanted to, just because he could. I can't blame him if I don't take full responsibility. He was trying to teach me a lesson that I desperately needed to learn. I can't be innocent. Therefore, he can't be held responsible. I should have been better, but I wasn't. I should have stopped him, but I didn't. I am convinced that the nightmares I will have for the rest of my life are my fault. I am right, aren't I?

Well, because of my dad hurting me, and the shame I felt resulting from that I wasn't able to let people into my life. It was easier to deal with what people said and did when they didn't know my past. Why am I telling you guys then? I think it has something to do with if I don't tell someone then my dad would have won. Those kids at school who insult me and punch me and let others do the same would have won. I have to do something to right my mistakes. I wonder what I did to make him so mad. It had to be something I did, it just had to be.


	4. My brother's keeper

I don't own Degrassi or Jane or Lucas or Johnny. I do own Jane's certain thoughts. I am not going to lie, some things are pretty dark in this chapter. But parts of life are pretty dark too so, I guess just enjoy and most importantly, enjoy the ending.

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My brother's keeper

Lucas,

You seem surprised that I would write a chapter of my miserable, wonderful, interesting life about you. How could I not? Even though I might not like you very much right now, you are my

brother and nothing in the world could change that.

I don't like your friends. You know that but you have never bothered to ask me why I don't like them. Isn't it obvious? It sure is to me. They look at me with mouthwatering lust, they want

me and I hate that. It takes me back to _more painful memories_ should I say. Of course, this is probably the first time you have learned about those also. These so called friends of yours

have your back, and you have theirs. I guess then it would be pointless for me to reveal to you who they really are. Sister knows best.

Your friends are rotten, cheating, stealing, bullying guys and you are just like them. One of them, Johnny shoves me against a locker and whispers in my ear exactly what he plans on

doing to me. His voice sends shivers down my spine and makes my hair stand on end. I know what he is capable of doing, I know how many teenage lives he can ruin in a blink of an eye

with the shove of a wrist or the twist of a finger against a trigger.

Don't you see the bruises? What do you think that is from, playing football? Of course not, the friends of yours love picking on me. They love holding my hands behind my back and jeering

at me while another one of them takes pleasure in every single pain he can administrate against my face and chest. You do nothing and that fact alone hurts more than what my father

did to me, what your friends did to me, and what my classmates do to me.

Betrayal is the worst injury. Time after time you pass me in school seeing me hurt and abused and yet you do nothing. I conclude that you either like to see me in pain and can care less

when I am hurting. I hold to the truth that even though you are my brother, you aren't really my family. In the same way father and mother are, we are blood related but you haven't

done one thing to better my welfare.

I hold on to hope, though, that one day you will change. I pray to God that sometime soon I can tell you my story and you can sit by me and comfort me giving me restoration and peace

that only a brother can give. I dream that you will stand up to my dad, and your friends, and my classmates and have my back. I know hope is fickle, or that is what everyone has always

told me and I started to believe them. It is just that I don't know if I can continue living without having hope that someday things will get better.

I need them to get better

You need them to get better

The world needs them to get better

Maybe if we all start believing that it is darkest before the dawn, that it will get better; then maybe we can leave and learn from our past and maybe, just maybe life will get a little better.


End file.
